I don't remember how I got here. One minute I'm sitting in Austin's office, stumbling over words and refusing to meet his always penetrating gaze. The next I'm sitting in a stuffy waiting room in a cheap plastic chair, ass completely numb.

I look across the room and feel oddly choked up once I take in the scene before me. Savannah and Austin sit on the floor, laughing and gossiping like old friends, tired grins spread across their faces. Paper cups of shitty hospital coffee and discarded candy bar wrappers sit in between them.

Despite the tight clenching of my chest and my throbbing migraine, I feel peaceful. Secure. Content.

And then I remember that Austin had to basically chase after me when I hung up my phone and stalked out of his office without a word or a single glance backwards. After Savannah's call, I was numb. Confused, angry. I knew Savannah was safe. If she wasn't, she wouldn't have been the one to call. But still, the anger that always seems to bubble and rise to the surface when mom gets herself into trouble will never fail to bring my walls back up while I come to her rescue yet again.

I should feel embarrassed that Austin led me to his car without a second thought, opened the passenger side door for me, buckled me in like a child, and drove me to Baptist Memorial after I softly uttered the word "hospital," and proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the car ride.

But I don't. For once, I take a selfish second to allow someone to help me. I bask in the feeling that, finally, someone was there to catch me when I was falling.

Through heavy lids and bleary eyes, I peek at the clock on the wall above the check-in desk. 4AM.

My voice is raspy with exhaustion when I finally speak. "Savannah, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Her head snaps towards me, traces of a tired, yet happy grin fading from her face. She stands to her feet, stretches her arms, and follows me around the corner.

"I need you to tell me what really happened," I demand.

Savannah's eyes widen slightly and she purses her lips. She hesitates, but then says, "She got mad at me when I tried to take her bottle from her. She was already drunk, and when she reached out to shove me, she fell. Hit her head on the edge of the coffee table. She blacked out and it scared me, so I called 911."

I take a deep breath and calmly say, "She tried to shove you? Is that why you told the medics she tripped?"

She nods meekly.

"She needs to go."

"I know," she whispers.

I stalk back around the corner and stomp to the check-in desk, demanding to know when the doctor would be finished stitching mom up. She refused to allow me or Savannah in the room with her, and we'd been forced to sit out here like fools while we waited.

I waited patiently while the nurse used the phone to page the back. After a few moments of nodding mindlessly and listening to whatever the person on the other end of the line had to say, she turned towards me reluctantly.

"The patient has requested for someone else to pick her up. They're on the way now," she says slowly, almost nervous to reveal the news.

I let out a dry laugh and turn to Savannah. "Is she fucking serious right now?"

"Aria," Savannah starts, "Let's just go. There's no use in causing a scene. She doesn't want us here."

She doesn't want us here.

She's right. But still, how fucked is that?

I turn my back and snatch my purse from the bright green plastic chair. Fuming, I turn towards Savannah and say, "You know what's funny? That I was worried about her. For a single second, I allowed myself to worry about her and if she was okay. I'm so fucking stupid."

Behind me, I hear two pairs of frantic footsteps following me as I flee the E.R. Outside, even at 4 o'clock in the morning, the humid Memphis air is stifling. Not remembering where Austin parked, I stop abruptly and lean against one of the pillars supporting the awning above us, arms crossed and cheeks flushed.

I watch, quiet and hurt and confused, as Austin wordlessly hands his car keys to Savannah and strides towards me. I ignore his gaze, heart in my throat and eyes trained on Savannah as she hops into the backseat of his jeep and leans across the middle console to start it up.

The sticky air around me is already suffocating, but it gets even harder to breathe when Austin steps closely in front of me and rests an arm against the pillar, caging me in but giving me space to flee if needed.

He tilts his chin down and tries to make eye contact, voice raspy and deep when he says, "Aria. Talk to me."

A strangled sound leaves my throat and my voice sounds like gravel when I choke out, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for dragging you down here when you should be sleeping. I'm sorry you had to see... any of this."

His eyes briefly flash with anger and he shifts restlessly on his feet. "If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be. The sooner you realize that, the better," he grates.

Exasperated, I toss my head back and groan. "That's what I don't understand. Why haven't you ran out of here yet?"

"Why would I?" he asks.

"Everyone else does,"

"I'm not everyone else. Let me take you home," he says gently.

I nod and let him lead me to his car. For the second time in the span of a few hours, he opens the door for me. The only sound throughout the entire drive home is the overplayed pop music drifting quietly through the speakers.

——

"You and Savannah really hit it off," I say, watching through the window as she bounds up the front porch and unlocks the front door.

"She's a good kid," he says.

"Yeah, she is. Anyway, thank you for the ride. Again," I tell him, suddenly nervous and eager to leave before I do something stupid.

He's quiet as I go to unbuckle my seatbelt, but speaks up when I reach for the door handle.

"What were you going to tell me when you were in my office earlier tonight?" he blurts.

Stunned, I sit back and peer over at him. He looks deep in thought, dark blue eyes filled with concern and something else I don't recognize.

I exhale slowly and say, "I was going to ask if you could cut my hours. I need the money. I do. And I appreciate the extra shifts, but... I have too much going on. I'm tired."

"I understand," he says gently.

"You do?" I ask.

He drops his head against the headrest and sighs. Looking over at me with a glint in his eye that I can't quite figure out, he quietly says, "More than you'd think."

Before I can respond, he clears his throat. "I gave Savannah my cell number earlier tonight. Told her to get it to you. Figured it'd be less creepy than going through your employment application and getting it there."

I let out a small laugh that surprises us both. A grin tugs at the corner of his lips at the sound.

"Take the next two days off. Get some rest," he sighs.

"I will. Good night, Austin."

I swing open the car door and jump down. Before I close it, I peer through and meet his eyes.

Feeling bold, I say, "I'm glad you were here tonight."

I close the door before he can respond and spin around, hastily making my way up the driveway.

Once inside, I exhale deeply, my chest tight and my stomach fluttering. I leave the door unlocked, just in case mom stumbles through within the next few hours. I force myself not to think about who could've picked her up or where she is right now.

My mother ignites a certain kind of anger and bitter reserved just for her, but damn if I can't help but love the woman who gave birth to me. That's a trait I've always hated myself for having. I always seem to care, even when someone's shown me time and time again why I shouldn't.

Before I head to my room, I fix myself a PB&J sandwich and a glass of water. It's been hours since my last meal, and my stomach is empty.

I also need a shower, but that's definitely not in the cards right now. Instead, I finish my sandwich and text Sidney to tell her that I won't make it for my shift tomorrow. RJ is pretty lenient when it comes to shift changes, so I know he won't have a problem with it.

Even though exhaustion floods my body and my eyes can barely stay open, it kills me to call out of work. We need the money so badly. But right now, I think I need sleep more.

That's the only thing that pushes me to turn the kitchen light off and pad to my room. I allow myself another moment of selfishness, just this once.

Because I know that no matter how many shifts I take on, or how much I get in tips, my mother will still be a careless alcoholic. Savannah and I will still have to clean up after her. I just have to make it a little while longer until I can get the money to get her out of here.

I don't bother with washing my face or the heavy makeup that adorns it. I toe off my shoes, pull my skin-tight jeans down my legs, and slip on an oversized t-shirt.

I plug my phone into the charger and pause when I spot the tiny piece of paper sitting on top of my nightstand. Savannah must have put it there. I sit down on the edge of my bed and carefully run my fingers over the inked numbers, mind racing with thoughts of my tattooed boss and the way he makes me feel.

I'm not everyone else.

He's definitely right about that.

——